


shoot me once, shame on you

by tiniegyus



Series: Shorts [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Changbin is a detective, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, and they're boyfriends, woojin is head of the mafia, y'all know where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 02:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18240824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniegyus/pseuds/tiniegyus
Summary: There were very few downsides to having a high up detective in the Seoul Police Department as a boyfriend. Unfortunately, the ones that did crop up were reallyreallyannoying. Sometimes, they were even dangerous.





	shoot me once, shame on you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iridescentmusings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentmusings/gifts).



There was a man who ruled Seoul—unofficially, of course. He was rarely seen in public, but those who’d been lucky enough to get invited into his inner sanctuary spoke of how terrifying he was. Not that anyone expected anything else. When you’re the top mob boss in a city like Seoul, being able to instill fear in the hearts of the people you controlled was part of the job. It was simply something that came with the title “The Red Hand of Seoul.”

 

Kim Woojin was, in contrast to his work persona, one of the sweetest people you could ever meet. The type to help little old ladies cross the street, or to give  ₩ 20,000 to a homeless person that he passed on the street. His mafia persona was one he wore like a jacket, shedding it as soon as he was safe within the confines of his home. He could do so easily, because he lived as a normal person. No one except for Jisung, his right hand man, and his husband Seungmin knew his real identity; anyone who did business with The Red Hand saw a man wearing a mask, even his eyes shielded from view.

 

Woojin shut the door behind himself, taking a deep breath as he was hit with the scent of fried chicken. “Binnie?” he called, stepping out of his sneakers (his loafers always got left in his car; after all, there was no reason that a vocal teacher would wear loafers on an everyday basis) and sliding into his house slippers.

 

Changbin appeared in the door of the kitchen. “There you are! I was getting worried; you’re back later than normal.”

 

“Sorry about that. Something came up at work,” Woojin said, laughing sheepishly. He stepped forward and grabbed Changbin’s waist, pulling him into a kiss. “Missed you,” he murmured, resting their foreheads against each other.

 

“You saw me this morning, idiot,” Changbin grumbled, but his smile betrayed his true feelings. “I missed you too, though.”

 

Woojin hummed, taking another moment to revel in the closeness with his boyfriend. “Fried chicken?”

 

“With lots of sauce,” confirmed Changbin. “Consider it an apology in advance for shooting at you.”

 

“Only if you let me give you a massage tonight,” Woojin said with a smile. “You’re not the only one who’s going to need to apologize.”

 

Little did he know how wrong he was going to be.

 

\----------

 

There were very few downsides to having a highly respected captain in the Seoul Police Department as a boyfriend. Unfortunately, the ones that did crop up were really  _ really _ annoying. Sometimes, they were even dangerous.

 

Mask firmly in place, Woojin checked to make sure his gun was loaded before sliding it in his shoulder holster. “Is everything in place?” he asked, the voice modulators in his mask lowering his natural pitch to a low growl. Honestly, he loved his mask. It made him feel like a supervillain.

 

Beside him, Jisung nodded. “Last we heard the police are headed this way. If we leave now we should be able to complete the deal and leave just as they arrive.” Jisung wore a similar mask, preventing Woojin from seeing his face, but he knew the younger was nervous. He always was when they dealt with the police in this district—it wasn’t easy to have potentially deadly interactions with people when you knew there was always a chance your husband was on the other end of your gun. 

 

Knowing that they were alone in the car, Woojin reached out and placed a hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “Seungie will be alright. He always is.”

 

“Like you’re not worried,” Jisung snapped. Catching himself, he sagged backwards into the seat. “Sorry… I know I’m not the only one worrying.”

 

“They’ll be alright. Just have faith.”

 

Jisung snorted. “Faith, he says. As if you’re not the closest thing to a god this city has.”

 

Before Woojin could respond, someone knocked on the side of the car. He rolled the window down and faced his subordinate, the mask hiding anything he might have been feeling. “Sir, it’s time,” the man said, pointedly looking everywhere except for the red eyes of Woojin’s mask.

 

“Thank you,” he replied, rolling the window back up. Looking at Jisung, the corner’s of his lips quirked up into a smile, hidden though it might be. “Showtime.”

 

The deal went perfectly according to plan. Today was a preliminary meeting—a young man by the name of Chan had just ousted JYP, the leader of the largest drug ring in Seoul. Woojin worked directly with them, selling their drugs in exchange for a cut of the profits. This meeting was just to meet the new leader, as well as to take a sample of the new type of drug he had started to market. Everything ran smoothly, and when Jisung leaned in to tell him that they needed to go, he was able to naturally excuse himself.

 

“How long do we have?” he asked as they stepped outside. Instead of hearing an response from Jisung he was answered by the sudden wailing of sirens.

 

“Police! Put your hands up!”

 

Woojin sighed as Changbin’s voice echoed around the street. With a wave of his hand his men began to fire their weapons, which they’d drawn as soon as the police arrived. Continuing forward, he walked calmly to his car, ignoring the shower of bullets on either side. As he opened the door, Jisung climbing in first, Woojin looked up. Through the mask, he locked eyes with Changbin.  _ Sorry, _ Changbin mouthed, before raising his gun and aiming it slightly to the left of Woojin. Right as he fired, however, one of Woojin’s men shot the officer standing next to Changbin and the man jerked back, crashing into Changbin. The collision threw off the younger’s aim and Woojin grunted as he felt something peirce his shoulder, a burning pain blossoming from the point of impact.

 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” he grunted, throwing himself into the car without sparing another glance for Changbin. 

 

“Sir?” Jisung asked, alarmed. 

 

“Alert the medics back at the compound,” Woojin pushed out through gritted teeth, one hand coming up to put pressure on his shoulder, trying to stem the blood flow. “Tell them to be ready to patch up a gunshot wound in my left shoulder.”

 

\----------

 

By the time Woojin was fully cleaned, stitched up, bandaged and released by Minho, the mob’s private doctor, it was dark outside. Considering the shootout had gone down before noon, that was no inconsiderable amount of time. Dressed back in his regular clothes and thick jacket on to hide the gauze wrapped around his shoulder, he trudged up the stairs to his and Changbin’s apartment. When he got inside the lights were off, but Changbin’s shoes were sitting in their cubby, his house slippers missing.

 

As he took off his own shoes Woojin thought over all the things he could say to Changbin. Logically, he knew it wasn’t the other’s fault. But still! In four years of conveniently planning these raids so that Changbin could take down enough members of the mob to impress his bosses, Woojin had never,  _ never _ been shot.

 

Changbin was sitting on the sofa, illuminated only by the light of the lamp next to him. He was empty handed, simply sitting there looking towards the room’s entrance. As soon as Woojin stepped into view a weak smile appeared on Changbin’s face. “Woojinnie!” He said, his voice betraying his nerves. “How was your day at work?”

 

Woojin planted his hands on his hips—or tried to anyway, before his shoulder began screaming in pain. He settled for folding his arms over his chest instead. “How was my day at work? You fucking  _ shot me _ , that was my day at work!”

 

Changbin smiled hesitantly. “Sorry?”

 

“Fucking right you should be sorry! There’s a goddamn  _ hole in my shoulder _ because of you.”

 

“It was a complete accident, you know I’d never hurt you!”

 

“A bulletwound! In my shoulder!” Woojin huffed. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

 

There was always a pattern to be found when Woojin and Changbin fought, and although the fights were not usually about something as dramatic as this, Woojin had a feeling that things would proceed much like they normally did. With that in mind, he went through his nightly routine—firmly ignoring the many things that he found difficult to do with one hand, but that could be done with two if he went and asked Changbin—and crawled into bed. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. If his calculations were correct, he’d only have to wait about ten minutes. 

 

About fifteen minutes later the door to the bedroom was slowly pushed open to reveal Changbin. He shot a guilty glance at Woojin, who staunchly ignored him, before setting off for the bathroom to get ready for bed. When he was all finished he slid under the covers on the other side. As both men lay there on their backs, a carefully cultivated distance between them as they stared at the ceiling, another five minutes of silence passed.

 

“Jinnie?” Changbin said hoarsely. Instantly Woojin was on edge. Had Changbin been crying? “Woojinnie, I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t need to be,” Woojin replied gently, still looking upwards. “I mean, I’m not happy I got shot. But it wasn’t your fault. Your aim is normally good enough not to hurt me.”

 

There was silence again. “Does is hurt?” Changbin asked quietly.

 

Woojin shrugged his good shoulder. “The doctor gave me a lot of pain medication. I’ll be fine.”

 

Suddenly Woojin heard the rustle of sheets as Changbin shifted positions to curl around him, his head resting on Woojin’s good shoulder. Woojin brought his arm up to wrap around Changbin and tangled their legs together. “I really don’t blame you, you know. I saw what happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

 

“I still feel bad.”

 

“Don’t.” Woojin pressed a kiss to Changbin’s head, tightening his arm around him. “We’re all good, I promise.”

 

“I love you.” Changbin said in a small voice.

 

Woojin smiled and—gingerly, so as not to hurt his shoulder—raised his hand to where Changbin’s was lying on Woojin’s chest and laced their fingers together. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoy this really short piece of fluff, leave me kudos and comments! the more i get the more i'm likely to write this pairing again
> 
> if you want to anon message me you can go to curiouscat.me/sunsmilehobi
> 
> find me on twitter @tiniegyus
> 
> also many thanks to ashtin (@lovelyjjix) for proofreading this for me!!


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